


One or the other

by ornategrip



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The good doctor gives incredible, yet oddly intimidating, blow jobs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	One or the other

**Author's Note:**

> An old kink meme fill for [this](http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/1375.html?thread=2655#cmt2655) prompt.

Will feared sex like he feared most social interactions and the necessary physical intimacy of sex meant it was something he rarely engaged in. The mere thought of it tended to make his stomach reel, especially when people (mostly strangers who only got glimpses of him as he traveled for work) flirted with him. When they smiled at him and tried to make eye contact and the bolder ones would touch his arm, his shoulder, his wrist.

He would always get away from them as quickly as possible and in general, his very clear disinterest was usually enough to put them off.

To be honest, Will rarely craved sex, his libido very low either by nature or by stress he didn’t know. He just knew his hand was more than enough to satisfy what few urges he did have, usually in the shower where he could treat it just like shampooing his hair or washing his face. Necessary but unexceptional. Will very rarely thought of sex in regards to himself, mostly he only dwelt upon thoughts of sex when viewing it through the eyes of a killer.

So this - this was completely new.

Will wasn’t naked, his shirt was rucked up, his jeans pulled down just enough to give Lecter access to his cock. He still had his shoes on and his socks. He was not naked but he felt naked, felt stripped of clothing, control and every little bit of defense he had managed to scrape together his entire life.

Lecter did not look up at him and for that Will was unendingly grateful. He could barely handle the man’s mouth, he doubted he could handle eye contact as well. Certainly not during something as intimate as this. And it was an intimacy, of that Will had no doubt. They were not lovers (not yet, a voice whispered in his head, one with a very distinct cadence and accent), Will wasn’t even certain why Lecter was doing this, why he had sank to his knees before Will’s chair in his very expensive office. He only knew that he did and it was a strange experience, not being able to see through someone’s eyes to follow their line of reasoning.

Maybe Lecter was that much of an enigma, so much more complex than even the most sadistic killer Will had ever had to hunt down. Or maybe it was the man’s mouth sucking on his cock and making it hard to think.

His mouth was warm, wet, which made sense and was an inane observation but Will’s mind was gibbering between fear and lust, two such basic impulses of the human condition. If it had just been fear Will could have managed. He lived with fear daily, minute by minute, knew it inside and out. Lust, however, was new and Will didn’t know what to do with the tide of it rising inside him.

Will couldn’t bring himself to touch Lecter, not on his perfectly coiffed head or on his broad shoulder. He simply dug his fingers into the armrests of the chair and struggled to breathe. He clawed at the fabric, distantly worried that his nails (broken things, chewed on and ruined) might harm the upholstery but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Lecter’s mouth was tight upon him, sucking him in deep then pulling away. Of course he would be good at this - in the brief time Will had known him, Hannibal Lecter had proven himself proficient at everything he turned his hand to.

Or his mouth, Will thought somewhat hysterically, watching that bobbing head working so smoothly between his thighs. Will felt powerless against the pleasure, against Lecture who was this great, broad beast between his legs, a sophisticated beast but a beast all the same. A predator, his mind whispered and it made no sense because Lecter was sucking _Will’s_ cock, servicing _Will_. Will should have been the one with all the power.

Will didn’t want to think about what it meant, that even on his knees, mouth full of Will’s cock, Hannibal Lecter was still the most intimidating man Will had ever known.

He opened his mouth to tell him so but fortunately all that came out was a moan. Higher-pitched than he would like but still infinitely better than any of the foolish words bubbling on his tongue. The sound didn’t seem to affect Lecter at all and if they had been doing anything else in the world, Will might have thought Lecter simply hadn’t heard him.

One lean, rawboned hand came up to cup his balls, rolling them gently even as Lecter kept a steady rhythm, taking Will down and then sliding back up. There were little noises, slick and soft but most of the sound was coming from Will, whimpers and moans and gasping breathing that almost sounded like sobs.

Will was close and getting closer, fear and lust twisting inside of him, sparking behind his eyes and along his nerve endings and Will wanted it to be one or the other. Not both, like some sick twisted animal, like some sick twisted _person_ , and he couldn’t tell if the confluence of emotions inside him was what a killer felt or what his victim felt.

He should be able to tell the difference but he couldn’t. Not now, not here, not with Hannibal Lecter kneeling between his legs and sucking his cock.

There was the faintest scrape of Lecter’s teeth along his shaft and he knew it wasn’t a mistake because Hannibal Lecter didn’t make mistakes. It made Will jerk his hips, made him shove them up, desperate to get more of that dangerous pleasure.

“C-come-,” Will managed to choke out, struggling to find his voice because if there was one thing Lecter despised, it was rudeness. “Going to-”

Lecter’s fingers slipped off his balls and pinched Will’s inner thigh viciously, hard enough to sting even through the fabric of his jeans and he shouted as he came, body arching off the chair. Lecter took him easily, throat swallowing around Will and Will whimpered helplessly, body shaking in Lecter’s iron grip.

Coming down from his orgasm, cock lying stick against his thigh, Will watched as Hannibal rose gracefully to his feet, his broad shoulders looming over Will’s splayed, panting form. Even now, with his heart thudding wildly in his chest, aftershocks of pleasure still thrumming through his veins, Will could not tell if what he felt was desire (not lust, lust was over but the urge to have this again and again was stirring to life deep within his belly) or fear, if it was more one than the other or both in equal measure. Fear, desire. Desire, fear.

Then Lecter glanced down from where he had been daintily wiping his mouth with a monogrammed handkerchief. They made eye contact for the first time since the whole thing started and Lecter’s eyes were dark, so very dark but still so very clear, as if he could see right into the core of Will.

Fear, desire. Desire, fear.

Will knew which one it was now.

He knew.


End file.
